


The Snake That Bit Us

by doodlewritings



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Heist, Junkertown (Overwatch), Light-Hearted, Violence, bad times to good times
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-20 14:27:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17624135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doodlewritings/pseuds/doodlewritings
Summary: Dark red and black liquid surrounded and smeared around his shorts and he swore he could hear deep wheezing breaths coming from the man. The man must have had his eyes closed, because when he opened them slightly, bright orange circles glared back at him.The doctor turned towards Roadhog who stood at the van’s entrance for an answer but got nothing in return. His hands began to shake and his pupils dilated in fear.“What?” The doctor’s head whipped to the injured man across from him. “Ain’t ever seen a junker before?” The sickly man grinned a crazed smile. Blood dripped from the corner of his nose and into his mouth.





	1. Venom

It was colder than what he remembered. Roadhog huffed out a deep breath that escaped from his mask in a white pit of smoke. His skin crawled as a wind chill dug knifes into his bare stomach and shoulders. He grunted and cursed at the wind. 

His feet stomped against the ground and echoes of police sirens and furious suits screamed in the background. His knuckles tightened and froze over the metal of his hook as its chain clattered against the side of his right leg. He stormed over the trash littering the alleyway and he could see the upcoming end with dread. 

He stopped abruptly and his throat screamed in disobedience of the chill from outside. He looked around frantically before settling on a dark green door lit only by a small lamp above. He grunted in satisfaction and without hesitation, he broke through the door with little pressure from his shoulder. 

There were only sparse amount of people at this ally bar and Roadhog could care less that they were all staring right at him. He hated takers and he hated people who stared. If Junkrat was with him he…

Roadhog grunted and snorted in an angry breath. His head whipped to the bartender who was stuck, frozen in time, grasping a cocktail mixer. His eyes squinted and a strand of his dark hair fell limply over the front of his face. Roadhog could see him visibly sweat. He could laugh about it later. 

Roadhog took a step towards the bar and dug his hook into the wooden panels of the counter. Wood splintered up from the impact and patrons who were sitting on small rounded stools had arched their backs in effort to avoid the large man that was now threatening the bartender. 

“Where is he?” Roadhog demanded, sinking his weight into his hook. The splintered counter creaked. 

“B-by-I mean-by the-over-“ The bartender stammered. 

“Where?” Roadhog bellowed as he slammed his fist on the counter, making the ground shake. 

“He just left-th-threw that door to the men's restroom.” The bartender swallowed under the pressure of the junker in front of him. 

Roadhog yanked his hook from the wood and stormed over to where the restroom sign was and pushed the door to the men’s room down. Roadhog grunted in disgust before turning his gaze to a small window leading to the allyway outside above the far bathroom stall that swung in a steady beat. Roadhog yelled within his mask as his fists tightened against his hook and flesh. 

_That bastard!_

He tore back into the bar from where he came and for a split moment, he saw a flash of yellow run over empty cans and disappearing in the back alleyway. Roadhog’s feet picked up in pace and once again he found himself chasing after this man. His blood boiled and heat began to radiate off his shoulders that provided a small amount of comfort from the cold outside. 

He turned the corner and the man in front of him heaved with panicked breaths. Not realizing a large beer bottle on the ground, the man tripped and collided with the ground, sending a splash of water to penetrate the alleyway’s walls from a puddle. His yellow shirt turned a dark muddy color and his jeans stuck to his skin.

He quickly pushed up his glasses and brown hair that invaded his vision before a large hand dashed towards him and pinned him to the wall. His eyes widened as he stared back at a pig mask. 

“I didn’t do a-anything, pl-please what do you wa-want? Why are you chas-chasing me?!” The man gasped as he struggled in his grasp. Roadhog’s grip tightened. 

“You a doctor?” The man’s face dropped in confusion, but was replaced with fear when Roadhog punched the wall next to his head, cracking the brick when the silence was lingering too long. 

“Y-Yes! Yes!” The man squeezed his eyes closed as he cried. Roadhog grunted after the response and threw him abruptly over his shoulder. The man exclaimed at the action and squirmed through his tight grasp. 

“Th-this is kidnapping! I’ll-I’ll scream, the police will come!” The doctor protested. He continued to protest and his eyes widened in fear as he tried to memorize the path that the large junker was taking him through. 

The alleyway had more twists and turns than he had remembered and soon the pathway opened up to a small clearing that was covered by clothing tents hanging from one side to the other. Rusted stair railings were coming apart that ran along the side of one of the buildings sheltering this clearing. 

“The police-they’ll find me. They’ll come looking for me; people know you’ve been chasing me! They’ll find you-they’ll-“ The doctor yelled but was cut short when Roadhog threw him onto the ground in front of a half-burnt green van in the center of the alleyway clearing. He didn't have time to look up from the action before Roadhog’s hand gripped the front of his shirt. 

The doctor frantically gripped onto his large hand as he pled. “Please, please, I’ll do anything! Just-just don't kill me please. Please! You want money? I can give you money!” He stammered as Roadhog unlatched the trunk of the van. The clicks of the van’s doors triggered alarms in the doctor’s mind and his speech picked up pace. 

“I’ll give you anything you want! Please, I have a daughter, don't let me die!” The man pleaded before he was thrown into the van. His head collided with the back of the driver’s seat and his skin chaffed against the hard metal of the vans interior. 

Sour milk mixed with gunmetal filled his nostrils and he blinked away the slight concussion that the throw had given him. He placed his hand underneath him for support but was immediately met with warm liquid. He brought his hand closer to his face and parted his fingers slightly. 

Blood dripped from his fingers and covered his palm and it was then when he realized where the blood was coming from. Across from him laid a man covered in soot who was propped limply against the far wall. 

It looked like he had a metal arm that laid lifelessly beside him while the other flesh hand grasped onto the side of his stomach in a death-like grip. Dark red and black liquid surrounded and smeared around his shorts and he swore he could hear deep wheezing breaths coming from the man. The man must have had his eyes closed, because when he opened them slightly, bright orange circles glared back at him. 

The doctor turned towards Roadhog who stood at the van’s entrance for an answer but got nothing in return. His hands began to shake and his pupils dilated in fear. 

“What?” The doctor’s head whipped to the injured man across from him. “Ain’t ever seen a junker before?” The sickly man grinned a crazed smile. Blood dripped from the corner of his nose and into his mouth.


	2. The Soil That Weighs Us Down

The doctor’s eyes widened with fear as he saw blood drip down from Junkrat's mouth. He let out a shaken breath and he felt his hands go numb. He hesitantly turned to the larger junker at the end of the van for any sort of information but got nothing in return. 

“He needs more than me-do you think I can actually fix him on my own?” The doctor stammered. His head nervously looked at Junkrat and fumbled over his words once more, “I-I don’t have any of my tools either-this is-“

A loud grunt came from the large junker and the doctor followed his extended finger, pointing at a cluster of objects behind him near the vans wall. The doctor’s heart sank and frustration grasped his chest when the glint of rusted pliers, needles, scalpel, and damp cotton swabs laid. 

“This is highly unsanitary.” The doctor argued. 

“Not askin’ fer much.” Junkrat wheezed. The hand over his stomach tightened and his golden tooth gritted against his other stained teeth in a scowl. 

“If I operate, then I can guarantee that you will die faster and more painfully than you are now-“

“Do it.” Roadhog bellowed from the back. A loud _click_ echoed in the bed of the van as he leveled his gun to the doctor’s face in a threatening manner. The doctor swallowed. 

“If-“

“You will.” Roadhog finished. The doctor looked at Junkrat’s stomach and chewed on his bottom lip. His hands began to shake and he couldn't help but notice a chill go down his spine. 

The doctor looked hesitantly to the rusted and bent tools behind him and gingerly picked up a scalpel. Roadhog’s grip on his weapon lowered. 

“Do you have any clean cloths? Or anything better than the ones provided.” The doctor commented, gesturing to the damp cotton swabs that looked like they were picked up from the sewer. Roadhog grunted and disappeared around the side of the van, only to return with a wool blanket that visibly had holes singed through the material. 

The doctor caught the cloth as it was thrown at him and shook his head. He scrunched the tip of the cloth and immediately pressed it against the smaller junker’s wound. Junkrat hissed and arched his back, taking his knee along with him and striking out in a defensive manner. He curled deeply against his wound and the doctor flinched violently at the action. 

“Fuckin’ hurt ya-“ Junkrat began. 

“Of course it’s going to hurt!” The doctor yelled. 

“Fuckin warn me first, ya-“ Junkrat wheezed, out of breath, “Fuckin’..fuckin’ city suit bastard.” The doctor scowled and grunted. Junkrat coughed harshly before letting out a shaken breath. 

“You have any sedatives? Any morphine?”

“We got some real nice grog.” Junkrat lazily grinned. 

“What?”

“Alcohol.” Roadhog confirmed.

“What kind?”

“The good kind, that's what. An’ no drinkin’ on the job-“ Junkrat argued. 

“It’s for you, you idiot!” The doctor snapped in return. 

“I’m not in the party mood, mate-“ Junkrat bit back. 

“It’s for sedatives. If you don't have any, we’ll have to use that,” the doctor began, “I’d suggest you don’t talk anymore either.”

“Tell ‘em all the time.” Roadhog grumbled only to turn and disappear from view to retrieve the needed supply. 

“Can you please lift up your hand? Just for a moment, I can’t see what the injury is.” The doctor spoke in frustration. He waited for a response, but only got wheezing for a return. He hesitantly looked up at the junker and realized his breathing was becoming erratic and eyes unfocused. 

He took a chance and reached out to the wound and was thankful he did not receive a violent response. He lifted up the junker’s palm gently and viewed the hole in the side of the man. His palm was sticky and held a vibrant purple coloration to the skin. 

“How long ago did this happen?” The doctor pressed. 

“Some time. Glad we found ya, didn’t we?” Junkrat grinned lazily. 

“What happened?” The doctor demanded. More erratic breathes filled the space between them as Junkrat opened his half-slit eyes. 

“Shot. Fell off a ledge. Broke me hand.” Junkrat trailed off. The doctor heaved an exhausted sigh as his eyes scanned over the wound. “Took a real tumble.” His hands began to shake and the smell of petrol invaded his nostrils. Something foul sat in the air and he felt sick to his stomach. 

What was he doing? Why was he helping these…these _criminals._ They got themselves into this mess, why did they have to drag him into it? If they hadn’t been going around causing havoc to the entire European continent, then they wouldn't have been injured like this. Why drag him? He was a doctor, but he was also-

“Ya think we’re bad people?” Junkrat wheezed, catching the doctor’s attention from his swirling mind. The doctor held his breath as the junker waited for a response. A moment of silence went by before the doctor let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. “Well. Do ya?” Junkrat pressed. 

The doctor’s head whipped around when a bottle was thrown to him from the corner of his eye. He caught the green bottle from its elongated neck within his wet fingers. 

“Absinthe?” The doctor exclaimed, ignoring the puzzling words that just came out of the sick junker. “Why the hell do you have Absinthe?!”

“Junker’s water.” Junkrat winced as he let out a small wheezing chuckle. “Fun with bombs.”

“You’re insane.” The doctor fathomed. Junkrat laughed in response. His shoulders responded violently at the action, causing blood to spurt out from the corner of his mouth. With every laugh, he struggled with breath. 

With a click of his scrap gun, Roadhog leveled his weapon once more to the doctor. He spoke with more urgency this time, draining out the sounds from the crazed junker. 

“Get on with it.” Roadhog growled. The doctor hesitantly tore off the cap to the hallucinogenic alcohol and leveled it to the junker’s mouth whose laugh was dying out.

Liquid poured out of the sides of Junkrat’s mouth and ran down his cheeks as it mixed with dried and new blood. His eyes squinted when the sharp pain from the alcohol went down his throat and spurted some up towards the doctor’s face. 

“You have to swallow!” The doctor pressed. “It’s the only way. You should know this.” The doctor winced. Soon, Junkrat squeezed his eyes closed as he willed the alcohol to drip down his throat. 

Sirens pierced their ears and echoed the alleyway’s walls. The echo disguised the direction that the police were coming from and it seemed to get louder and louder with every moment. The cacophony of high-pitched alarms jolted the doctor and he pulled the bottle away immediately once a sufficient amount was drained down the junker’s throat. Roadhog grunted and slammed the vans truck with a violent blow. 

The doctor’s pulse rose and his hands began to shake once more. The sounds were getting louder and the start of the van’s wheezing engine filled his ears. Junkrat giggled lazily as mixed liquid of blood and alcohol wetted the corner of his mouth. 

The van screeched to a start as its tires ran circles in place, sending smoke to rise from the rubber. Junkrat’s giggles rose and the metal from the van trapped the sound inside. The doctor held onto the floor below until Junkrat’s voice caught his attention. 

“You’re gunna have a real ripe time, mate.”

~~

“Turn! Turn!” A police officer yelled within the hover vehicle as they swerved around a brick building followed by five other cop cars similar to themselves. The sirens blared across the street and passing omnics and humans jumped out of the oncoming car chase. 

“They’re coming up on block 30, all neighboring units go to Franklin Street- they’re heading that direction!” The police officer yelled into his radio as his partner accelerated the car. 

“What the hell are they doing?” The driver yelled, seeing the broken and dented van in front of them swerve violently. 

Junkrat laughed violently as the van jerked once again. Cans, tools, and empty bomb canisters jolted in the air of the van and clanged against the interior frame. The doctor ducked before a bomb canister with a smiling face landed in the center of his nose. He tumbled when the van jerked once more. 

“This is insane!” The doctor exclaimed. “I can’t-I can’t work in these conditions-“

“Ya ‘ver think of that ‘ne time? Fuckin’ ripper, sounds just like it.” Junkrat giggled and mumbled from his drunken gaze. Roadhog grunted as he jerked the van once more, trying to weave out of parked cars on the side of the road. 

The jerk jolted the doctor out of his stunned gaze before returning to place pressure back onto Junkrat’s stomach. More blood was exiting the wound from the van’s jolts and it began to concern the doctor even more. He blinked as the adrenaline and sounds of police sirens filled his ears. 

“Roadie-ya fuckin’ pi..g! Aw’nr me! Ya pig face” Junkrat wheezed, looking at the doctor. “Ya changed. Ya changed yer mask, ya didn’ tell me ya like _Cows_ now, do ya?” The doctor exhaled deeply before applying more pressure to the wound. His fingers dug slightly into the wound in search of something gleaming. 

Thankfully, he didn't see the bullet lodged into the wound, but that meant he had to stitch. He looked at the junker who was giggling madly and saw bullets hit the back of the van before cursing to himself. He readied the stitching needle in his shaking hands. 

“Are you at Franklin Street? We’re almost here!” The driver called in the radio while his partner, along with other cop cars behind, began to shoot at the van to attempt to slow it down. 

“Units are positioned. We have the street blocked off.” A voice called from the radio. 

“We got them!” The driver smiled as he accelerated. 

The doctor’s hands shook as he threaded the needle out from the junker’s drenched skin. Junkrat’s giggled faded and there was only soft drunken mumblings coming from his mouth. The doctor could feel his breath weaken under his fingertips and tensed when Roadhog grunted from the driver seat. A bullet smashed through the driver’s side mirror, sending it shattering across the road. 

The doctor swallowed before finishing the stitch and looked at the black mangled cross string that was sewn jaggedly across his bullet wound. The doctor smiled gingerly but was cut short when the van jerked violently to the side, sending the doctor’s head to slam into the side of the van’s wall. The van putted oil and smoke from its exhaust before it cut a sharp corner on a dirt path surrounded by forest brush, away from the city skylights.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell!” The policeman cursed. He slammed on the brakes, which sent the car to drift to the side. He violently pressed a glowing blue button on the center console of the car, causing the hover wheels to angle down with more intensity. “All units near Abacure Ave. they switched coarse and are going near the hiking trail off the side of the road!” The police car accelerated once more before blaring its siren through the trees. 

The doctor blinked lazily and moaned as he rose from his position where he was thrown. He hated the sirens and he hated the sickening feeling in the air. 

“He’s sewn up!” The doctor yelled. The van jerked as it rounded a corner and jolted upwards and downwards from large rocks underneath. The police car followed in close pursuit and crashed its bullet into the other passenger side window. The doctor screeched and held onto the slippery floor of the rocking van.

Roadhog growled from the drivers seat when more trees began to close the narrowing gap of the dirt trail. The sirens began to fade and he couldn't understand why the police cars stopped in their pursuit when they were so close. 

“You-you idiot! We’re going to crash, what’s that going to do?” The doctor yelled before the van rounded a corner only to be met with a jagged rock protruding from the ground. 

The van was suspended in time and the doctor could see passing by soup cans and bombs in the air beside him. There was a soft ringing to his ears and he could feel blood somehow drip down from the tips of his fingers. He could hear his breath and for some reason, he looked to the junker beside him. 

His eyes were closed and the wide grin that he used to have was gone. Something felt wrong. Something felt very, very wrong. However, something kept coming back into his mind. That short response from the junker that he heard briefly-

 _“Ya think we’re bad people?”_ The junker’s voice echoed in his mind. The bruised hand of the junker lifted lightly in the air from the force of gravity and it was only then when he saw the bone structure of his skeletal figure prominently. His hands, ribs, and clavicle bones protruded from the skin in a gangly manner that tore at the doctor’s mind. 

They were junkers. Of course they were bad people. But he hadn’t stopped to think _why_ they were. They were people. The Omnium…and Australia. He knew there was something more behind it, but couldn’t place what it was. 

Why did he say that? Why would he feel the need to say that? They were bad people! They’ve killed omnics. They have blown up buildings…but why, then, did they ask for help? They weren’t…they aren't….

The van’s wheels spun in an unnatural way as the car drove off the side of the dirt path. The side of the van crushed hard against the downward slope, crushing trees, bush, and sprung mud into the air. 

Then there was silence. 

Crows called from their perches in the trees and crickets chirped their mating call in the small bushes that surrounded the toppled van in damp soil. The trees sat overhanging the van and rustled when a cold breeze blew from the ocean not too far away. 

After a moments pause, the driver side door thumped. Another dent pounded against the metal until finally the door was thrown off its broken hinges. A large bloodied hand reached until it grasped the frame of the van from inside. 

Slowly but surly, Roadhog heaved himself out of the van until he collapsed onto the soil that mixed with his own blood. He wheezed and blinked to attempt to get rid of the throbbing headache that pulsed against his forehead. 

The doctor could hear wet footsteps from outside. He forced his eyes open and faintly saw an outline of a junker. He inhaled a soft breath before his eyes focused on his upward facing hand that was covered in blood. Who’s blood, he couldn’t tell. 

Soon, the roof to his metal cage was pulled off and the moonlight pierced his waking eyes. He squinted and saw the figure with the pig mask leaning over him. He couldn't panic. He couldn't scream, even if he wanted to. His body wouldn’t let him. 

The figure reached down near him and he closed his eyes, waiting for the forceful grab, but got nothing. He gasped for air and blinked once more. Rising from beside him was the smaller junker and he watched the seemingly long arms dangle down limply. Blood streamed down his cheek from his head and a deep pain radiated from the doctor’s stomach. 

Roadhog curled Junkrat into his stomach and stopped to take a breath. Blood drenched his massive hands and glass dug into the back of his spine. He exhaled a groan when the ragged stitch to Junkrat’s stomach glared back at him. And for the first time, he hesitated from walking away. 

Exhaustion weighed his shoulders and sunk his feet into the ground. His grip tightened against his partner and if he listened close enough, he could hear the faint wheezing coming from Junkrat’s throat. He looked up towards the trail where the van veered off from and was surprised when he saw that it wasn't too far of a drop…but still. His gaze went back to his partner. 

Gingerly, Roadhog shifted to face the paralyzed doctor laying in the destruction of the van. Sirens wailed in the background and the ever-present anxiety lingered. 

“Why.” The doctor questioned. More crickets called from the brush and the trees rejected the sound of distant wails and city nightlife. Roadhog stared and griped tighter against Junkrat. His feet sunk into the soil and his shoes beckoned the action. “Why me.” The doctor rasped again. 

Roadhog forced himself forward, walking back towards the man that he forced to save his partner. Who he chased down hidden streets for, punched his way through leads, and finally tackled him to bring him to where he laid now. The crunch of the glass from the van’s windows stopped Roadhog from approaching any further. The silence was brought back. 

“You’re a doctor.” He answered. 

“There are many of us.” The doctor rasped, wincing from the sharp intake of breath. “I’m asking why me.” The doctor spoke with more frustration and urgency. A chill went down the back of his spine as it met with fresh blood. His hands shook ever so slightly, but he wouldn’t give that away. He never would. 

“Wrong place, wrong time.” Roadhog lowly spoke. The doctor winced and blinked away a red drop that obstructed his vision. 

“That’s how it is for a lot of things, isn’t it?” The doctor’s vision looked at the limp figure in the giant’s palms. The doctor wetted his lips as the sound of sirens began approaching once again. The forest rustled and the crickets seized their music.


End file.
